


Let the Choir Bells Sing

by alliterate, Stonestrewn



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Fake Marriage, Gen, Hijinks, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 14:57:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3124394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alliterate/pseuds/alliterate, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stonestrewn/pseuds/Stonestrewn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Well, Chargers," he booms, "looks like two of us are getting married."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let the Choir Bells Sing

**Author's Note:**

> This fic wouldn't exist without Stonestrewn, who prompted it, thought up a scenario where a marriage of convenience might happen, and came up with most of the jokes. She is a menace to society. I (alliterate) just strung her ideas into a story.
> 
> And the title is, of course, from Bruno Mars' "Marry You."

It starts, as these things so often do, in Orlais.

That's how Rocky thinks he'll tell the story later. It's a snappy enough way to start, and anyway, where else would they end up with a job like this? No one but a fucking Orlesian would give them a target, settle a price with the boss, and only _then_ bother to say, "By the way, the bastard's holed himself up in some kind of heavily guarded temple that can only be entered by married couples, so have fun with that."

Maybe not in those words, but that had been the shape of it.

The deal had been made, though, and the boss doesn't break contracts. With everything settled, the noble on his way home, Bull turns to them all and claps his enormous hands. 

"Well, Chargers," he booms, "looks like two of us are getting married."

* * *

They draw straws.

"Why do _you_ always get to hold them," Dalish says, even as she selects her own straw from the bunch in Krem's fist.

Krem shrugs. "I'm the only one who doesn't cheat." 

Skinner, at his side, snorts loudly. 

"Fine, I'm the only one who doesn't cheat _at this_. Draw your fucking straws, all of you."

They do, crowding Krem until he rolls his eyes and shoves Grim good-naturedly away. When only one is left in Krem's hand, the boss says, "Show 'em." 

Rocky's straw, he sees immediately, is shorter than Skinner's. It's shorter than Krem's, and Grim's, and everyone else's all around the loose little half-circle they've formed until Rocky's eyes reach the Bull, who's holding a short straw to match Rocky's.

"Would you look at that," Bull says. He's grinning like he's just seen a pair of dragons fucking in midair, breathing fire all the while, and he gives Rocky a lascivious wink. "You ready to tie the knot?"

* * *

Stitches spreads the map out on the table. Krem busts open a consolatory cask. Skinner steals the chair Rocky was about to sit in, flopping down bonelessly, and the chief gets to work stabbing pins into the map.

"We're here," he says, jabbing a pin into the coastline west of Val Chevin with a bit more force than necessary -- as if they don't all know exactly where they are. He stabs another, with equal enthusiasm, into a spot just outside of Val Royeaux. "And here's the temple where our mark's supposed to be hiding."

"You really need pins for this, chief," Krem says, "or did you just feel like showing the table who's boss?"

Bull shoots Krem a look. "Shut it, Krem." Krem grins like the nug that got the nevarrite; Bull turns back to the rest of them. "Now, we'll want to get this done fast, or we risk the mark deciding that this temple's security isn't enough and making a run for it. Anyone know of a place nearby that'll marry me and Rocky--"

"'Rocky and me,'" Stitches corrects absently. "Ser."

"--that'll marry Rocky and me, then, fast and cheap? And legal?"

There's silence. Rocky, for his part, has got nothing. Then Dalish pipes up. "What about that chantry in lower Val Royeaux, ser? The one where we found Sister Hildred?"

The chief blinks, then smiles. "That sister who was smuggling under Lady Caron's nose! Good memory, Dalish." Dalish smiles, that way she does that makes her entire face glow. "I doubt anyone there would object to a rush order wedding."

"Yeah, but that's because it's a hovel, ser," Stitches says. Grim grunts in agreement.

That's the way Rocky remembers it, too: dark, seedy, and staffed by a chantry mother who was definitely hiding a flask behind that altar of hers, who had barely blinked when they'd shown up to scare one of her sisters silly. Still-- "We only need them to give us a license that looks legitimate enough to make the temple guards happy. Not exactly looking to make the memory of a lifetime, here, Stitches."

Bull claps Rocky hard on the back. "My husband-to-be has a good point," he says, and Rocky can't help himself: he laughs. Bull jams a third pin into the map, right on the dot marking Val Royeaux. "The Val Royeaux hovel it is. Find somewhere to sleep, Chargers. We leave at first light."

* * *

"Wait," Dalish says the next morning, stopping in her tracks. For a moment Rocky thinks maybe they've gotten off the path, but no, this looks right; besides, Dalish is pointing at Rocky, even as she looks to the rest of the group. "Who gets to walk them down the aisle?"

Rocky groans. Bull says, "Do we really have to--"

"Because I think it should be Skinner and me. Out of everyone here, we're the closest thing to a long-term couple, and--"

"Oh come on," Stitches says, but before he can continue, Krem cuts in.

"Obviously one of them should be me," he says. "I am the chief's second-in-command, after all."

Dalish squawks and Grim grunts dangerously. Stitches says, "I'm the healer! None of you would even be here if it weren't for me."

"What has _that_ got to do with anything?" Dalish says, and at her side, Skinner nods sharply. Rocky takes a closer look at her, surprised she has any feelings on the matter, and finds her glaring at the men around her with murder in her eyes. He takes an unthinking step back.

Bull drops a hand to Rocky's shoulder. "Come on," he mutters. 

They turn and start back on their trek to Val Royeaux. Rocky figures the rest of them can catch up once they've worked out… whatever that was.

Rocky thinks on what awaits them in Val Royeaux and sighs. "Still can't believe we're going from necking in the back room one week to getting hitched the next."

Bull laughs and squeezes Rocky's shoulder -- vice-like, but nowhere near, Rocky knows, his full strength. "I know," he replies. "Don't you love this job?"

* * *

The chantry is still seedy and the mother isn't even bothering to hide her flask anymore; she lets them do a drop-in wedding, though, and doesn't even comment when the Chargers mark off the aisle at intervals and trade off so everyone has a fair turn to escort Bull or Rocky, so Rocky figures she's pretty okay.

In all likelihood she's just eager to get their fee and get them gone, however, because once the two of them are safely at the altar and everyone else is crammed together in the front row of benches, she skips straight to the vows.

"I, Rocky," Rocky starts, "take you, Iron Bull, to… uh, how does this go?"

The mother rolls her eyes. "To be your husband."

"To be my husband, for richer and poorer, in sickness and whatever. Did I miss anything?" He turns to the mother.

"So as long as you both shall live."

"Yeah, that." He looks at Bull again. "Your turn."

"I, _the_ Iron Bull--" Bull shoots Rocky a reproachful glare. "--take you, Rocky, to be my husband, in, um, whatever you said, so long as we both still feel like being married. The end."

The mother looks unfazed. "Good enough. You got the rings?"

"Rings? Oh, shit! I mean," Bull says, shooting a nervous glance at mother, "crap. Sorry, ma'am."

He looks at Rocky, who shrugs. In unison, they turn to Krem.

Krem sighs and opens his pack. He rummages around in it and retrieves two rings. "Here," he says, tossing one to each of them. 

Rocky catches his and examines it. "Flanking enchantment," he says. "Nice."

"I got critical damage," Bull says. "Or, I guess you did, since I'm giving it to you...?" He looks a little lost amidst all this ceremony, and that's right, Rocky thinks: Bull's people wouldn't have weddings. Rocky nods helpfully.

The chantry mother gestures, still just as eager to move this along as Rocky is, and they swap rings. Rocky puts his on; it's a little loose. Fucking humans and their enormous fingers. 

Then the mother clears her throat.

"Do you, the Iron Bull, take this, uh… Rocky--"

"As often as he wants me to," Bull says. Rocky barks a laugh; half the Chargers cheer.

The mother sighs. "Do you take this Rocky to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"Sure do," Bull says.

"And do you, Rocky, take this Iron Bull to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"Why not."

"Great. I now pronounce you married. You may kiss each other, if you," she waves a disinterested hand, "can."

Rocky leers. "Oh, _we can_ ," he assures her, rising up onto his toes, and the Bull leans in.

* * *

"Halt," says a guard. He holds his lance across the entrance to the temple, like he thinks this is some kind of palace and not a hidey-hole for married criminals. "Only those joined in the bonds of matrimony under the eyes of the Maker may enter here."

"Yeah, yeah," Rocky says, and fishes their brand new marriage certificate out from his utility belt. He proffers it to guard, who looks over it and frowns.

"You two?"

"That's us," Bull says. He smiles winningly. 

The guard continues to eye them up. "I don't believe you."

Bull groans. "Oh, for--" He steps forward and yanks Rocky into another kiss. It's too hard and there's _way_ too much tongue, because the Iron Bull is theatrical when he's trying to prove a point, but Rocky goes along gamely.

Finally, Bull lets Rocky back up for air. The guard looks more unsure of himself now, glancing back and forth between them. "But you're both--"

"They're Aqun-Araas," Dalish interjects smoothly, sounding so confident that even Rocky's tempted to believe her. He's not sure he's appreciated before this moment just how dedicated that woman is to bullshitting people. "Qunari custom. _You_ wouldn't understand."

Stitches nods and Grim grunts authoritatively. Krem folds his arms over his chest. The guard says, warily, "All right."

" _Finally_ ," Bull says, and moves to step inside. Rocky steps forward, too, but as Skinner tries to follow him, the guard holds out his lance and stops them once more.

"Wait. You two, fine, but who are these lot?"

"Our children," Bull and Rocky say in perfect unison. _Nice_. Rocky shoots an approving glance at Bull. When the guard finally lets them all inside, he holds his hand up -- way up -- for a high five.

* * *

After all that, the mark is easy to find. He's lounging in a back room in some sort of hot spring, a woman on each arm, and it takes only a wave of Krem's hammer and the bite of Skinner's knife under his chin to get him to agree to the client's terms. He doesn't even have any backup with him. Fucking rookie.

It's too bad the client didn't want him permanently harmed. When they get out of there, Rocky's hands are still aching for a fight.

Two drinks in at the tavern that night, Bull slings a massive arm around Rocky's shoulders. "What say you and me consummate this bond of matri-whatever tonight, Rocky," he says, and Rocky raises his ale to that.

"Sounds good to me." He does his best eyebrow waggle.

Krem, on the chief's other side, laughs. "That might make it a little harder for you to get that marriage of yours annulled, chief."

Bull blinks. "Annulled? Who cares. Wait, Rocky, do you care?"

Rocky shrugs. "Doesn't really matter either way, boss."

Bull raises his glass in toast. "He doesn't care! To the Chargers' first married couple!"

There's a round of cheers and clanking glasses, and Rocky signals the barman to refill his glass. He may not be getting a fight tonight, but he can drink to that.


End file.
